


Krasota

by badwolf_on_vulcan



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, olympic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:38:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolf_on_vulcan/pseuds/badwolf_on_vulcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hikaru Sulu is competing in the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics as one of the most highly decorated American ski jumpers. Pavel Chekov, on the other hand, is a rookie Russian figure skater who quickly gains attention from the judges as well as other competitors. After watching Chekov skate, Sulu can't help but feel drawn to the young Russian in a way that nothing else has ever captivated him.</p><p>EDIT: November 15th, 2015 <br/>I'm sorry I'm such a shit head. I'm gonna finish this because I love writing and I love Chulu and I love you guys. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: this is meant to be a love story. I know that in these past winter olympics, Russia had anti-gay laws, but let's say that, for the sake of the story (and also since it's an AU) that no countries competing in the 2014 winter Olympics have any problem with the sexuality of any athlete. Thanks and enjoy!!!

Hikaru Sulu was flying.

  
Well, not exactly. He lacked the wings and the actual flight-capability, but he had the altitude part down. Ski jumping was about as close to flying as any normal person could get, save for maybe sky diving. But Sulu had done all of that before, and honestly, he hadn’t found it nearly as compelling. It lacked a certain...build up. But now, as he surged down the slope with the wind at his command, all other thoughts were pushed from his mind. He held his breath, flying upwards as his ski’s were lifted from the ground in a sudden breath of weightlessness. And all at once, everything else fell to silence.

  
There was nothing but the wind. A sharp whistling in his ears, rustling the bits of jet black hair that peeked out from beneath his goggles, burning his skin and rendering him incapable of any other thought. This was what he lived for; the abandon of the frozen winter sky and the few moments that, to Sulu, seemed to stretch on for hours at a time. Up here there was nothing but his body and his ski’s and the vast expanse of the world around him. People and buildings and life all fell tiny beneath him, the sounds and feelings diminishing beneath his wings.

  
He angled himself forward, straightening out his legs to help catch the resistance of the chilly air. Most of his teammates focused on this aspect of jumping, if only so they could improve their distances and have a better chance of winning Olympic gold. But Sulu had never cared about winning. He was 23 and one of the highest decorated ski jumpers in American history, earning countless medals, three of them gold, since he made his first Olympics at 16. Prior to that he’d won other awards for skiing, both in jumping and cross country. But that wasn’t the reason he was here.

  
He had never let that fact go to his head. It was a feat that his coaches had always gotten annoyed at; they never ceased to tell him how much higher he could soar, literally, if he started focusing on improving himself rather than just “going through the motions”. But he never just went through the motions. He loved jumping as much as the next guy, he just wasn’t in it for the gold like the rest of them were. Sulu only knew of one other Olympian who was in the game just because he wanted to be.

  
Jim Kirk was the exact definition of “sporty”; he was cocky and somewhat arrogant, but cared deeply about his sport more than a lot of other people on his team seemed to. He had fun snowboarding, that was for sure, but he was much more reckless than Sulu and had suffered many injuries over the years, though it was never anything serious enough to keep him off of his board for long.

  
The sudden whoosh of the incoming ground interrupted Sulu’s thoughts. Quickly, he urged his body upwards just in time for the impact. The sense of weightlessness ended with a thump that jolted his entire body, as if he was waking from a vivid dream. Immediately the crowd around him erupted in applause as he shot forward like a bullet, their voices and shouts mingled together in one uproarious wave of sound. Sulu breathed deeply as his speed began to slow. He ached slightly but felt his heart lifting up in that familiar sense of euphoria. This was only a training run, his first week in Sochi, Russia for the 2014 Winter Olympics. But still, the people came if they could, and everyone seemed to get a thrill from watching ski jumping.

  
Sulu leaned down to unclip his ski’s. His gloves, thick and lined with insulation, grasped at the edges of them, setting them up against a nearby back wall just as Jim Kirk approached him.

“Nice run, Sulu!!” he said with excitement, clapping Sulu on the shoulder. Jim was two years younger and almost a full head taller, but between the two of them, it was Sulu who remained the calmest. “You think you’ll do well in the real thing next week?” 

  
Sulu shrugged, removing his goggles and gloves to run his fingers through his sweat coated hair. The air was cold and soothing against it, cooling his head after being trapped so long in the stuffiness of his wool hat. “I’m sure I’ll do fine,” he said.

  
Jim shook his head in mock disapproval. “I forgot,” he said, amusement embellished in his playful tones. “You’re just doing it for the _thrill_.”

  
Sulu smirked. He couldn’t deny that. He shivered, suddenly cold despite his windproof suit. It was slick and tight against his body, protecting him from the winds above but not seeming to do much now that he was back below the skyline.

  
Jim frowned. “Let’s go get something to eat,” he suggested, glancing up at the stands around them. “It looks like everyone else is headed home too.”

  
“Sounds good,” Sulu agreed, just as his stomach let out a questioning growl. “But first I need to change. Russia’s so goddamn _cold_.” Compared to his own home back in San Francisco, this place was like a freezer.

  
Jim laughed, handing Sulu his ski’s as they began the short trek back to the locker room. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know how cold it can get out here.”

  
The stars shone heavily above them as they walked forward, the packed snow crunching beneath Sulu’s heavy boots. He liked it out here much better than he thought he would. The entire country was covered in ice, sure, but it was warm in some places and it was a lot less hectic than California. Sochi was beautiful and the people were very welcoming, though privately Sulu thought that Vladimir Putin, the president of Russia, was a bit too...controlling. He hadn’t smiled once during the opening ceremonies and just seemed plain old mean. But, Sulu supposed, that wasn’t really any of his business. He was sure people from other countries thought similarly to America’s president, if only because they weren’t the ones who really knew him.

  
Sulu pushed the thoughts aside as they entered the locker room. A warm burst of air flowed out to greet him, warming him and making him ache with tiredness. The room ahead of them was empty. The walls were painted a hue of calming blue, reminding Sulu for a moment of the mist that sometimes rained down on San Francisco. Maybe he would go out for another run the next day, but honestly, as much as he loved jumping, he knew that it would be a waste to spend all his time in Russia just doing what he constantly did back home.

  
Jim seemed to be thinking the same thing. He plopped down on a bench that sat in the middle of the room, yawning as Sulu opened up his locker. “Let’s _not_ train tomorrow,” he said, imploration seeping into his voice. “Just for one day. I want to go see some other sports besides what you and I do. You know, have some fun.” He had spent about as much time training as Sulu had, but it seemed like he was getting restless, and, as both of them knew, restlessness did not go well in the Olympics.  
Sulu slid his sweatshirt over his head, half his suit now hanging at his hips. The material was cool on his skin, contrasting with the soft, warm fabric of his dark gray hoodie. He knew he too could use a day of relaxation, but he wasn’t sure how much he trusted the snowboarder’s judgement to what was “fun” in Russia. He just hoped it didn’t involve Vodka.

  
“What’d you have in mind?” Sulu asked tentatively.

  
Jim closed his eyes, sighing as he stretched his legs out against the smooth surface of the wooden bench. “Two words,” he said. “Figure skating.”

  
Sulu stared at his friend in disbelief. “You wanna go watch people slip around on ice...?”

  
The snowboarder rolled his eyes dramatically. “ _Skate_ ,” he insisted. “And they’re _good_ , Sulu, obviously. They’re _Olympians_ , like we are. So they won’t be slipping around.”

  
Running his fingers over the red, white and blue of his uniform, Sulu took a moment to fold it up before placing it at the back of his locker. “If you say so,” he said, pulling on a pair of dark washed jeans over his compact shorts. He had to reach far up into the top of the locker to find his shoes, thick and insulated but looking pretty similar to the pair of cruddy vans he had back home. “It’s just training, right?” he asked Jim as he slid his ski boots into the locker.

  
Jim nodded. “Well, it’s a free skate kindof thing. Like training,” he explained. “But people can go watch just like people always come and watch you.”

  
Sulu frowned. “They do not,” he said quickly. “They come to watch whoever’s jumping.”

  
“Whatever, dude,” Jim laughed, his already bright blue eyes looking mischievous. He stood as he waited for Sulu, who shoved him to the side with a smile. Jim was the only one Sulu was so willing to mess around with, his calm collectiveness faltering in the company of his closest friend. Out on the run, or when he was being interviewed, he never showed that side of him. He knew that some of the other jumpers thought him to be stuck up or even irritable, but Sulu couldn’t really help it. He wasn’t a very excitable person on the outside.

  
They headed out of the locker room and towards the dining area of RusSki Gorki Jumping Center, Sulu setting up his ski’s in their individual locker before closing the door behind him. The air was cool and the night was clear, and most of the crowd had left during their brief few minutes in the locker room. By the time they made it up to the diner it was nearly 9 pm, which meant it was only around noon back in the United States. At the beginning, the jet lag was horrible. Sulu and Jim had both struggled to stay up the full day after the flight so they could at least attempt to regulate their new sleeping patterns to something acceptable for the Olympic competition. By the time the opening ceremonies rolled around, they were experts. Still, Sulu found himself almost thoughtlessly converting Sochi-time to San Francisco-time. He frowned upon realization that, no matter what the time difference, if he were still in the United States he would be doing the same exact thing; jumping. So it wasn’t as if the time change made a difference.

  
They ordered a couple of cheeseburgers and milkshakes, and the sight of “real American food”, as Jim had dubbed it, was a welcome even to the easygoing Sulu. Almost as soon as the food hit his mouth he felt almost overwhelmed with drowsiness. It was a full hour and a half drive from the ski jumps back to their hotel in Sochi, but Sulu figured he would be able to sleep some on the way back.

  
Jim yawned as well, crumpling up his napkin and tossing it in an arc into a nearby trashcan. He could have been a decent basketball player if he’d have wanted to. Hell, the guy could’ve been _anything_ , simply because he contained more determination than anyone Sulu had ever met. “Long day tomorrow,” Jim commented.  
Sulu scoffed. “I don’t think watching people skate really counts as hard work,” he said as they both headed out towards the warmth of the buses. “We’re just gonna be sitting around the stands the entire time.”

Jim shook his head. “Hey, it’s a pretty stressful sport. Anything could happen,” he said seriously.

  
“Sure,” Sulu laughed. “I’ll hold you too that when it gets too boring.”


	2. Chapter 2

The sky was a deep, clear blue by mid afternoon the next day, when Jim and Sulu finally arrived at the Iceberg Skating Palace. Luckily for them, the place was pretty close to their hotel, so the athletes hadn't needed to get up very early in order to fulfill Jim’s wishes. Privately, Sulu still thought that this would be a waste of their time. But he knew that there would still be plenty of time for other activities, both before and after their competitions. Besides, had the roles been reversed, Jim would have probably been excited to go see a sport like luge or curling or something like that.

They approached the arena. Blocks of blue covered the ceiling of the dome, glittering beneath the bright Russian sun and tempting Sulu to shield his eyes against their brightness. But they both, of course, were immediately admitted, the quick flip of their I.D. cards being more than enough to allow them a good seat.

Jim grinned wickedly as they entered through the tunnel that led towards the bleachers, his eyes shining with a flare that Sulu had learned to be cautious of. “Think there’ll be any ladies here?” Jim asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sulu rolled his eyes. His friend had convinced both the media and the other athletes of being almost too flirtatious for his own good, especially with the women from different countries. “Well, if there are, promise me you won’t go chasing after one and ditch me like you did last time,” Sulu said with exasperation. “I don’t want this entire day to turn into one of your _fiascoes_.”

Jim laughed. “Please. Maybe you’ll find someone of your own this time.”

Sulu frowned. He doubted that. He had been in a few relationships over the years, but they were never very good and they never seemed to last very long, much to his confusion. It wasn’t like he was bad at talking to girls, or that he was unapproachable, or....well, he wasn’t sure. Sulu had never really known the feeling of relying on anyone. He had grown used to being alone, but despite that, he couldn’t help but wonder what _not_ being alone felt like.

Bright light overflowed into the tunnel, stopping Sulu dead in his tracks as he allowed his vision to adjust. Immediately, his breath caught in his chest. The inside of the arena was so huge that the athlete could barely stop his jaw from dropping. It was exactly what the name suggested; spacious and elegant in every sense of the word, making Sulu feel as if he was some sort of prince coming to stay in a foreign land, head crowned in the light that shone between the rafters. Just ahead of them was an ice rink so large and perfectly smooth and cold that Sulu could actually feel the chill radiating out from within it. The overhead lights glimmered on the surface, casting the ice a creamy, milky white, the precise tracks of the skates looking like streams crisscrossing over it. A few skaters were already out, most of them only doing simple warm up laps.

Jim prodded him in the side. “Come on,” he urged. “It’s gonna start soon!”

Reluctantly, Sulu pulled his gaze from the rink, moving after his friend and towards the stands of the Iceberg Skating Palace. The air was brisk, so cool that he could see tiny puffs of his breath in the air around him, but he didn’t mind. Sulu thrived in the cold.

He was just about to turn the corner when, out of nowhere, a small face spattered with freckles ran smack into him. A pair of ice skates fell with a clang to the floor below, one of the plastic blade protectors flying off in the process. Quickly, Sulu knelt down.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, grasping onto one of the creamy white skates. “I didn’t see you there, uh....”

Sulu's eyes met with a pair so breathtakingly blue that he found his words stuttering to a stop before they had even left his mouth. Ahead of him was a man- well,boy, really- who was so tiny and slender that Sulu probably could have picked him up with one hand. His head was a mop of reddish blonde hair that glinted beneath the light of the arena, curling into spirals and bouncing slightly as he tilted his head to the side. He wore a suit of tightly woven fabric, in a deep, crimson red that was embellished with glittering gems. They shimmered like starlight against the boys skin, making him seem, to Sulu, almost...angelic. It was at this moment that the ski jumper realized he was still holding one of the skates.

“Ah, here,” he said, thrusting it out towards him, quickly enough to technically be considered a nervous reaction. But the boy only smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thank you,” he said. He had a thick Russian accent that made his “t” sound like a “z”, and Sulu couldn’t help but smile back. “Er, is zhere a....” he trailed off, gesturing at the unprotected blade of his skate.

“Oh! The...thing,” Sulu trailed off, not quite sure what that “thing” was called.

The ice skater giggled, his voice sending tingles of interest across Sulu’s skin. “It is just a blade guard,” he explained, watching as Sulu grabbed it from where it had stopped just beside his foot. “It doesn’t really have a name.”

Sulu leaned forward in an attempt to fix the blade guard onto the blades, but he couldn’t quite fit the end on. The boy chuckled once more, his fingers brushing against Sulu’s as he reached over to help. “It just..clicks into place,” he said. “Like zhis.”

Just then, Jim reappeared, popping his head around the nearby corner. “What's taking you so long?” he asked, sending the young Russian a quick glance of confusion.

Sulu paused. “I’m coming, just...go save me a seat or something,” he said, turning back to the boy but finding an empty space where he had been standing only moments ago. Desperately, Sulu looked around, just in time to see the skater's smiling face disappearing into a closed room, his eyes twinkling as the door slid closed behind him.

Sulu frowned, giving his head a shake. _What’s the big deal?_  he asked himself, turning back to where his friend still stood. Jim seemed to be confused as well, but offered no words of advice as they moved further up into the stands, choosing two seats right in the middle of the arena.

It wasn’t like Sulu knew the kid personally. It had been a brief moment of friendliness, yes, but nothing more than that. But still, he had to admit that there had been something...inviting about the skater. Maybe it had been the color of his eyes or the sound of his laugh or the syllables of his accent ringing out towards him, Sulu wasn't sure. It was as if he couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh man,” Jim said excitedly, pointing to the edge of the rink a few minutes later and pulling Sulu from his racing thoughts. “They’re all skating out now. Look!”

Athletes were gliding beautifully across the pale ice, exiting the stands one by one as announcers called their names, ages, and countries. Suits of bright, sparkling colors flew out onto the ice, faces smiling as the skaters began their warm up.

“That’s the American guy,” Kirk pointed out, nodding his head at a tall, brown haired man who was circling the rink as the other skaters came out around him. He was wearing a bright blue suit covered in an odd assortment rhinestones and sequins, giving the appearance that he was trying to win gold for “worst outfit ever”.

“I met him once,” Jim continued, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. “During training. He’s kind of a...” he trailed off, grimacing as the man began to blow dramatic kisses into the growing crowd.

Sulu snorted. “A prick?” he offered, crossing his arms as he settled into his seat. “Does he think showing off is going to win him any medals?”

Jim opened his mouth to respond, pausing to stifle a hoot of laughter as the man, distracted by a group of giggling women, slammed face first into a wall in front of him. His hair ruffled up as he fell on the ice, face turning beet red as he quickly struggled to his feet. “I guess not,” Jim said. “Man, how’d he even _get_ here?”

Sulu shrugged, eyes scanning around the rink at the rest of the practicing skaters for the boy he had just ran into. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “Hey, do you see that kid anywhere?”

Jim gave him a sideways glance. “Who?”

“You know, the one I bumped into.”

“Oh,” the snowboarder said, considering it. “No. Why do you wanna find him?”

Sulu paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted meekly, feeling the unfamiliar flush of heat creep up over his cheeks. “I wanted to see him skate,” he said. Luckily, Jim didn’t seem to notice his uncertainty.

Just then, the announcer said another name as a surge of red flew out onto the ice. “Chekov, Pavel. 17 years old. Moscow, Russia.”

Sulu leaned forward in his seat, watching as Pavel Chekov offered a quick, timid wave to the crowd before his face shifted into a look of intense concentration. Despite the fact that there were others on the rink around him, Sulu felt himself being drawn into the young Russian’s practice run. He watched Chekov’s body curve in long, elegant arcs around the edge of the rink, weaving precariously back and forth before spinning around, his leg angling out beside him. His toe suddenly caught on the ice,  flinging him upwards into the air with such intensity that Sulu felt his own breath catch in his throat. Chekov crossed his ankles over each other, spinning around so fast and tight that he was, for a moment, a blur of crimson against his cool white surroundings. He hung in the air for longer than Sulu would have thought possible, before landing neatly on the ice below, one leg straightened at the waist as he continued to skate around the outer edge of the ice.

“Damn,” Jim said, seeming to be just as awed as Sulu was. “That kid sure can fly.”

Sulu nodded as he watched the Russian leap a few more times, hovering in the icy air as he flung himself up again and again. Sulu lost himself in watching, his eyes trained on the Russian as he spun around, leaning and weaving through the other skaters as if he were floating upon a cloud. He stood on one leg, spinning with the other straight out behind him as he flattened his body parallel to it in order to increase his speed. He turned, making neat circles in the ice below him. It was hypnotic, Sulu realized. Because there was not one time that the boy so much as stumbled.

Beside him, Jim yawned. “Ready to go soon?” he asked, shifting around restlessly in his seat.

Sulu didn’t take his eyes off of Chekov. “Now?” he asked. “It’s only been like...two minutes.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Sulu, it’s been two hours,” he said, checking his watch. “Are you alright? You’ve been zoning out pretty much this entire time,” he added, a look of concern etched on his face.  

Sulu blinked. _Two hours?_ He thought groggily. There was no way they’d been sitting here for that long. But, as he looked out onto the lessening crowd, the cleanness of the ice around Chekov now that he was the last athlete out there, Sulu realized that Jim was right even before he checked the time for confirmation. His muscles ached from sitting in the same position for so long, but somehow, he didn’t really care. He felt rejuvenated somehow, as if watching this kid’s perfect spinning leaps had somehow made him better at his own sport. Inspired, maybe.

He pushed the thought to the side as Jim stood up beside him, stretching out his limbs and groaning with pleasure. Sulu followed him out of the stands, nearly empty now that all of the star skaters had exited the practice. In fact, nobody but Sulu and occasionally Jim seemed to take any notice of Pavel Chekov, so he must not have been very well known, or maybe this was his first Olympics. Sulu sighed, wishing for a fleeting moment that he could speak with him. Offer him some tips, maybe. But then he scowled at himself. That was a stupid thought; he knew nothing about ice skating, save for what the protective blade guards were, and he knew even less about the boy he had spent two minutes talking to. He had to stop getting so distracted.

Even so, Sulu couldn’t help but glance back at the ice rink as they exited the arena, smiling to himself as Chekov circled the rink, tiny flecks of glittering ice trailing in his wake.

**  
  
  
**


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days were easy for Sulu. Wake up, eat, jump, eat, sleep. There was hardly any time for anything else, with the first competitions coming up in less than a week. It was a flurry of activity for the athletes as well as the coaches, but still Sulu found himself wishing desperately to be back in the Ice Palace, watching that oddly captivating Russian skate so...perfectly. Now, days later, he still couldn’t figure out exactly what it was about him. All he knew that was, despite the demands of his upcoming competition, he had to go back and watch him skate again.

He had brought it up with Jim briefly a couple of hours ago, back in the hotel room, before the snowboarder had departed for his own training.

“Do you...” Sulu had started, doubtfully. “You don’t want to go back and see those guys skate again, maybe...today?”

Jim had frowned at him, his fingers briskly folding a few pairs of clean shirts. “Are you alright, man? Seriously,” he had asked. “I mean, you didn’t even want to go a few days ago when we had the free time, and you wanna skip practice to go _today_?”

Sulu had started to explain himself, only to be reminded that he didn’t have an explanation. He was practically aching to go back to the Ice Palace. And to see that kid skate again...he couldn’t help but shift about nervously in his seat.

“Yeah,” Sulu had said. “Forget it, it was stupid.”

But now, as he stood on the platform above the jump for yet another run, he felt...disgruntled. Unsettled. Feelings he had never before associated with his sport, nor during his everyday life outside of ski jumping. God, what was _wrong_ with him?

Shaking his head slightly, Sulu reached up to tighten his goggles. He loosened his shoulders, trying desperately to focus before edging out to the railing before him. His heartbeat quickened to the normal excitement he felt each and every time he jumped, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His skis swung for only a moment below him before Sulu pushed himself off of the edge, hooking onto the pathway of slick snow created by all the other jumpers before them.

This was it. Now he was flying. Angling himself forward, Sulu propelled himself through the air, feeling the familiar push of weightlessness as he lept off the edge of the jump.

Sulu wasn’t quite sure how fast people could go up here, probably because he had never bothered to ask. He guessed it was pretty damn fast, regardless of the fact that the judges were looking at how far down the slope you got, not the speed you could reach. It felt fast enough to him. Although, to the crowd of people below, minutes were like seconds. To the jumper, they were hours. Hours of time alone in a place so quiet, so thought stopping that Sulu couldn’t believe he had wanted to ditch out today. But...didn't he still?

As soon as his skis thumped onto the ground below him, the familiar jolt rushing through his body from his toes all the way up to his ears, Sulu was uncertain. It wasn’t that his run had been bad; the smiles on his coaches faces told him that it was just as impressive as ever. And now, he realized, that had been exactly what he wanted. An excuse to leave.

“Hey, mind if I go back to the hotel for a few hours? Rest up for Friday,” Sulu said, approaching one of the nearby instructors. The man was busy scribbling on a nearby notepad, looking cold despite the sun that shone high above them both. He waved a hand dismissively as Sulu approached.

“That’s fine,” he said. “God know’s you’re good enough to take a day off,” he added with a chuckle.

Sulu smiled, hurriedly unclipping his skis and slipping slightly on the snow in the process. His heart was beating perhaps even faster now that he had a chance of escape, a chance to go back and settle his undying interest in a sport he’d only watched a day ago. He frowned. The night before, Sulu had tossed and turned restlessly for reasons, even now, he couldn’t understand. He was tired still and yearning to get back in that arena, if only to figure out what exactly he was pining for.

By the time he finally reached the Ice Palace, traces of doubt began to sting at the back of Sulu’s mind. He didn’t even know if they were doing a practice today, let alone if one tiny Russian kid was going to be there among them. But a part of him didn’t really care. He just wanted to get back in there.

The arena was, to Sulu’s immediate disappointment, basically empty.

He groaned inwardly, feeling ridiculous and rash and incredibly stupid for coming here in the first place. There was hardly a person in the stands, save for the occasional janitor and one single skater. She was slender and gorgeous, dressed in hues of gold and silver, just exiting the ice with a look of contentment on her face. Sulu leaned up against the wall of the tunnel, giving her a brief nod as she passed him by.

Well, he was already here. He’d already taken the time out of his would-be-busy schedule to come here for...for some reason. He figured, fingers zipping up his navy blue jacket, that he might stay a while. Sulu sighed, heading up towards the same spot Jim had picked yesterday, hoping that his reasoning wasn’t completely idiotic. His feet stretched out to press against the seats ahead of him, watching without hope at the empty ice ahead of him. His eyes trailed up to the ceiling. The entire arena was vast, a seemingly endless ocean of space, the fluorescent lights above them seeming to ignite the entire area, bathing it in warmth. It made the ice below twinkle with colors, creating a span of smoothness that spread all the way across to the other side of the stands.

“Vhy are you still here?” A sudden voice caused Sulu to nearly jump out of his skin, his feet slamming to the concrete beneath him as he struggled to slow his heartbeat. A familiar set of blue eyes shined out to meet him, standing only a few feet away on the edge of the ice rink.

Pavel Chekov was leaning on the wall that separated skater from viewer, tilting his head to the side curiously. Sulu felt his breath catch at the sight of his fair skinned face, splattered at the edges with freckles that seemed to shine in the light of the Ice Palace. He was dressed in a different outfit from the previous day; casual wear, it seemed, fit the boy just as perfectly as the crimson uniform Sulu had last seen him in. Chekov was wearing a dark blue color similar to Sulu’s own jacket, with a pair of black pants that stood out against the pale color of ice. He raised an eyebrow slightly.

Sulu blinked, realizing that he hadn’t yet answered the Russian’s question. “I, uh...” He trailed off, distracted by the light that shone in Chekov’s eyes.

 _Wow,_ he thought desperately. _Way to be articulate._

But the skater only smiled. “You and your friend vere here for hours yesterday,” he commented, his accent ringing through the spaces around them. “But you don’t skate, da?”

Sulu paused for a moment. “No,” he admitted, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. “I do ski jumping.”

If it was possible for those bright blue eyes to shine any more, Sulu would have probably been rendered speechless. But yet, as they lit up beneath the reflection of the ice, he found himself flushing with another surge of heat, fingers tingling from where they lay clasped together.

“You do zhat?” the boy asked excitedly, leaning towards where Sulu sat. “I love watching it, zhe vay you guys fly through the air like that, it is so...” he trailed off a moment in an attempt to find the perfect word. “Beautiful.”

Sulu smiled. “Coming from you?” He said, the words, strangely, coming easy to him despite the fact that the two athletes barely knew each other. “Chekov, you didn’t fall once yesterday.”

The boy frowned at the sound of his own name. “Chekov?” He repeated. “Vhat are you, one of zhe judges? It’s just Pavel,” he said with a smile. “And I em not zhat good.”

Sulu raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Pavel,” he repeated with a grin. “You’re...” Perfect, his mind urged him to say, but he quickly pushed the thought to the side with a blush. He was acting like an idiot still. “You’re a lot better than that American guy out there,” he finished, before the silence became too long.

Pavel rolled his eyes, pulling off a look that was nearly as dramatic as one of Jim’s. “Zhat guy...” he said, with a smile, “is a complete idiot. Did you see him run into zhat wall yesterday?” he added mischievously.

Sulu snorted. “Did you see his outfit?”

The kid erupted in laughter, the ringing of his voice echoing out loudly around the now empty arena. Sulu joined in, feeling a rush of intense euphoria that he usually only felt when he was jumping. This...wasn’t normal, he knew. To feel this strongly about someone he had, quite literally, just met. But a part of him silently yearned to just let things happen, whatever they may be. He liked this kid. Pavel Chekov was funny in a way that Sulu hadn’t known for a long while, and he brought out a new part of him that he had stopped experiencing years ago. Suddenly, all traces of doubt melted away to make way room for the tingling sensation that had begun to show itself whenever Pavel was nearby.

The boy paused in his laughter, cheeks red as he looked over to Sulu. “Vhat vas your name again?”

Sulu twisted his fingers together nervously. “Sulu,” he replied.

Pavel bit his lip in a failed attempt to hide another smile.. “Zhat is...not your name,” he said with a chuckle.

Sulu furrowed his eyebrows in mock confusion. “...It’s not?” he said quickly. “Oh my god, that’s not my name?” He clasped a palm to his open mouth. “Pavel, what the hell do I tell my parents??”

Pavel laughed again, squinting his eyes together as he tried to contain himself. “No, no” he said, leaning again towards where Sulu sat. “I mean, zhat is not your first name. Zhere’s no way.”

Sulu frowned. “No,” he admitted with a small grin. “I don’t like my first name.”

Pavel widened his eyes. “Come on,” he said earnestly. “I told you my first name.”

The ski jumper could feel a flush creeping over his features, even before he had spoken again. “It’s...” he leaned forward, still hesitant. “Swear to god you won’t laugh.”

Pavel considered this for a moment. He stretched his hand across the wall that separated the two of them, wiggling his pinky finger out towards Sulu. “I pinky swear,” he said.

Sulu smiled back, hooking his own finger onto the ice skater’s. They stayed like that for a moment. Sulu felt a rush of nervousness surge through him once more, sparking at the very point that Pavel was holding onto, skin shivering against his. After a few more seconds, Pavel dropped his hand back to his side of the wall, leaving Sulu feeling oddly...empty.

“It’s Hikaru,” he said quickly, trying to diffuse his own tension.

Pavel beamed. “Hikaru?” he repeated. “Vhy vouldn’t you like zhat name? It is _so_ much cooler zhen mine.”

“Well, it’s...” Sulu said, thinking back. “Kids at school used to make fun of it. I mean, it was a long time ago, but...I guess that stuff sticks with you.”

“Vhat did they say?” said an anxious looking Pavel.

“Dumb kid stuff, probably,” Sulu said with a shrug.

Pavel paused. “People call me zhings too,” he said. “Like, a showoff, or a baby. I zhink because I em one of zhe younger athletes in Sochi.”

Sulu frowned. Beneath him, just out of view of the Russian’s eyes. His feet tapped anxiously at the concrete floor. He wanted so badly to just....he didn’t know. Be closer to Pavel? He’d gotten his first wish; talking to the skater was incredibly easy and even enjoyable, but now it just seemed to be leading to a whole other slew of problems that he didn’t know if he was capable of solving. Before he could do anything stupid, Sulu raised his eyebrows and spoke.

“They shouldn’t be,” he said, in an attempt to make Pavel feel better. The boy’s eyes had become shadowed with doubt, obscuring the colors and making him look like he wasn’t sure that he belonged here. “That’s just childish of them.”

“Yes, vell...” Pavel started. “I just vant to do vell here.”

Sulu paused, somewhat confused. “Is that why you’re the only one out here...?”

The boy blushed. “I need to practice more,” he explained. “Zhere are others who come out here during free time too, but...I just need the practice, I zhink.”

Sulu frowned. He’d seen this before in past years; younger athletes who were convinced that, the more they pushed themselves, the better they would become. It was true in some cases, but push yourself too far too fast and you’d be out before the opening ceremonies. He’d seen some gut wrenching crashes, and even worse injuries. That couldn’t happen to Pavel.

“...Do you wanna get out of here?” Sulu asked, his words surprising even himself. But he saw the way Pavel’s eyes glimmered at the suggestion, although his stature depicted otherwise. He leaned back slightly as he continued to listen. “We could go take a break from this. Just for one day,” Sulu said hopefully.

Pavel frowned. “Hikaru, I... I don’t know.”

Sulu couldn’t help but smile. “Come on, Pavel, I’ve seen you skate,” he began, beginning to echo the words of his own coach. “You’re good enough to take one day off.”

The ice skater looked down, his cheeks flushing red with color. “Is zhat vhy you’re here?” He asked. “For a day off?”

Sulu chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose,” he replied, pausing for a moment. “You can’t keep pushing yourself so hard,” he said gently. “Day’s off help. I promise.”

Pavel grinned at his words, thinking it over for a moment or two longer. “Alright,” he said, sending another rush of excitement through Sulu’s body. “Tomorrow?”

The ski jumper bit his lip. “Tomorrow,” he agreed, feeling his heart flutter at the sight of the Russian’s bright smile.


	4. Chapter 4

The bus ride home was almost as uneventful as the night before, though this time, the feelings of confusion and uncertainty at the memory of Pavel Chekov were replaced with ones of near elation. Sulu wasn’t sure what excuses he would tell his coach this time, but he was sure he could think up something. Jim Kirk, on the other hand, was another matter. The instant Sulu walked into their hotel room, the snowboarder practically quivered with unwanted questions.

“Dude! Where have you been?!” he said. He was curled up beneath a pile of blankets, watching some loud, gun-shooting action movie on a portable DVD player. He paused it just as Sulu closed the door behind him. “You missed dinner with the guys.”

Sulu scoffed, pulling off his boots and tossing them beside the bathroom door. “The “guys”?” he asked. “Jim, the guys are just whatever random people you decide to sit beside.”

Jim frowned. “Fine, well, you still missed dinner,” he said quickly. “Where’d you run off to?”

Sulu froze. “Uh...”

The snowboarder narrowed his eyes. “You totally went back to that ice skating place!!” he said, his eyes lighting up in amusement. “I so called it.”

Sulu had to turn his back to his friend, pretending to fiddle with his shoelaces in order to hide his nervous smile. “So what if I did?” he asked, in an attempt to sound casual.

Jim grinned. He closed the DVD player with a click, propping his hand behind his head as he snuggled down deeper into the comforter. “Hm,” he said. “You’re gettin’ kinda unpredictable there, Sulu,” he commented with a grin.

The ski jumper couldn’t help but return the smile as he finished changing clothes. He moved over to the second twin sized bed, aiming one of the soft, milky white pillows straight at Jim’s face. He jolted to the side with a huff of annoyance, throwing the pillow back but missing by a good couple of feet. Sulu giggled as he jumped out of the way.

Jim rolled his eyes in mock displeasure. “Nerd,” he said, settling back down into his bed.

Sulu snorted, lifting the covers before him. “Go to bed, Jim,” he said with a laugh, grateful that, for now, his friend hadn't asked  _why_ Sulu had returned to the Ice Rink.

It took Sulu a while to fall asleep, heart full of excitement for the following day’s events. And he found that, the deeper he fell into dreams, the more Pavel Chekov’s bright, shining blue eyes seemed to appear.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The sun shone heavily on the streets of Sochi. By the time Sulu made it to the small coffee shop that Pavel insisted “tasted so much better than the gross green color of zhe sign out front”, the city was aglow with activity. Vendors, clad in purples and greens and blues, bustled about the cobblestone streets, pushing carts of glittering merchandise brought out especially for this years Olympics. The sunlight streamed across buildings, causing what little snow that remained on the rooftops to shimmer brightly.

Sulu shivered slightly despite the warmth, perhaps out of nervousness more than anything else. He couldn’t believe he had actually done that; asked some kid he barely knew on what would probably be considered a date. He hadn’t been on one in...well, for a lot longer than the ski jumper cared to remember. Sulu wrapped his fingers around each other, worried that he might mess things up after so many years by himself. He barely had time to take a deep breath before he felt a tapping sensation on his shoulder.

There was Pavel Chekov, wrapped in a bright red scarf that was almost as long as he was tall, eyes shimmering in a million shades of blue. Sulu couldn’t help but smile despite his initial anxiety.

“What’s with all the...clothes?” Sulu asked, briefly touching the snowy white pom-pom that sat on the top of Pavel’s hat. He immediately retracted his hand when he realized how suggestive his wording had sounded. Blushing, he tried to backtrack. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“It is alright,” Pavel said, giggling. “I know you did not mean it like zhat.” He scratched his head slightly, rearranging the curls of dark blonde hair that peeked out from beneath his hat. He looked Sulu up and down. “Vhy don’t you have more layers on?” he asked curiously.

Sulu frowned, looking out to the busy streets before them. “Because it’s really warm outside?” he said, as if this might end up being the wrong answer.

But Pavel only smiled. “It’s Russia,” he said briefly, turning to face in the same direction that Sulu did. “Vhere do you vant to go?”

“You...you know Sochi better than I do, Pavel,” Sulu said, sticking his hands into his coat pocket. They were a little cold, especially now that he remembered he wasn’t exactly in California. He wished he could hold Pavel’s hand instead.

He shook his head slightly, feeling of immense uncertainty rushing through his blood. _Quit it_ , he told himself, almost too harshly. _Quit looking at him like that_. Sulu could feel yet another blush creep its way across his cheeks.

Pavel didn’t seem to notice. “Zhere’s a market!” he said with excitement. “ _Rynok Solnsta_.”

Sulu had to fight to keep himself from shivering at the sound of the Russian’s voice. He had thought previously that the boys accent, thick and pulsing with energy, had been enticing in itself- but this was another matter. The way the words all rolled together off Pavel’s tongue seemed to leave a sweet aftertaste in Sulu’s own mouth. He smiled after a moment, uncertain of what _Rynok Solnsta_ meant.

Pavel giggled. “Market of the Sun,” he translated with a grin. “I used to go zhere a lot vhen it vas around, but I...have been much too busy training to go zhis year.”

“Do you want to go?” Sulu asked.

Pavel bit his lip. “Yes,” he said quickly. “You’ll lowe it, Hikaru, zhere’s all kinds of zhings zhere, like, er-” he paused, interrupted by a group of tourists skirting their way around him. “Vell, zhere’s a lot of really really interesting zhings,” he finished, breathless.

Sulu wasn’t quite sure how a marketplace, of all things, could be that entertaining, but if Pavel was excited to show him then he was all for the idea. They walked in a comfortable silence through the crowded streets of Sochi, and Sulu felt the now familiar euphoria whenever Pavel brushed up against him. They were close enough in height, Sulu thought, to be considered almost the same age- though Pavel was a lot more slender in stature than the American was. He had eyes that made him look younger than he actually was, and, from what Sulu could see, was tremendously passionate about anything life had to offer.

Pavel paused. “See?”

Sulu repositioned his gaze towards the area just ahead of him. Drenched in afternoon sunlight was a long, twisting road, full of brightly colored carts and excited looking tourists alike, crisscrossing from stand to stand. Pavel smiled as Sulu widened his eyes in enchantment, barely pausing to blink even when they began to move through the scene.

Maybe he’d been living in the wrong area, or perhaps markets like this were a thing of the past in San Francisco, but Sulu had never seen anything so festive. At each station, there was a different sort of treasure; hand woven baskets in hues of purple and blue and deep, luscious red, sat stacked along one portion of the street. Another had samples of fruits and vegetables, steamed, fried or dipped in toppings that ranged from chocolate to something that looked similar to steak sauce. Dumplings, kebabs, and even a cart full of different ice creams were there, along with nearly anything else Sulu could think of.

Pavel paused in front of stand that was silvery gray in color, gazing through a tray of food samples that Sulu didn’t recognize. They were small, golden brown pastries that smelled unlike any food Sulu had ever tasted.

“Have you ever had zhese?” Pavel asked him.

Sulu shook his head. In response, Pavel delicately chose the two nearest to them, using a couple of nearby toothpicks to help hold the pieces. “Zhey’re good,” he promised, popping one into his mouth and handing the other to a rather apprehensive Sulu.

“What is it?” he asked, twisting the toothpick between his fingertips.

Pavel giggled. “I’ll, er....I’ll tell you when you’ve finished eating it,” he said, causing Sulu to frown.

“It’s not like...that fish egg thing, is it?”

“No,” Pavel said with another grin. “Zhat’s _Caviar_. But we can try some of zhat if you really want to,” he added sneakily.

Sulu smiled. “No thank you,” he said, looking down to the pastry once more, hoping that it wouldn’t be anything worse than Caviar. Before he could back out, he put the entire thing in his mouth, biting down to find a burst of cheesy flavors that tangled with the taste of potatoes and sausage, all spilling out of the sweet bread that contained them. He had to fight to contain a sigh of delight. “Oh my god,” Sulu said, mouth still full. “What _is_ this? This is-” he paused, swallowing his food. “That was by far the best thing I’ve tasted since I got here.”

Pavel beamed. “I knew you’d like zhat! It is _pirozhki_ ,” he said smoothly. “Sometimes zhey can have cabbage or potatoes in zhem too, but it’s zhe sausage ones I like best.”

Sulu licked his lips. “Me, too,” he said.

“You didn’t even try zhe other ones!” Pavel laughed.

“But you eat these all the time,” Sulu pointed out. “I don’t need to try the other ones.”

Pavel smirked. “Come on,” he said, grasping Sulu by the arm and pulling him away from the pirozhki stand. “Zhere’s another one- I forget zhe name- but it’s so good. I don’t zhink you have anyzhing like it in America.”

Sulu felt his heart flutter at the sight of Pavel’s warm hands wrapped so gently around his wrist, looking as if they had no better place in the world to be. Without a second thought, Sulu twisted the Russian’s grip around until their fingers were entangled with each others. Sulu froze just as Pavel stopped walking, sure that the Russian was going to call of this day all together. But Pavel only smiled, perhaps a little shyer than before now, and gave Sulu’s hand a quick squeeze of reassurance before moving forward to read the sign ahead of them.

Sulu bit his lip, fighting to contain an ecstatic smile. His hand was still warm with the feel of Pavel’s fingers.

“Ah!” Pavel said, turning back to Sulu after briefly muttering something to the vendor behind a tall wall of glass. He had to stand on his tiptoes in order to fully reach the two small cups that were passed out to him, each gleaming with samples of something that smelled incredibly sweet. “I can’t believe I forgot vhat zhis vas called,” he said, passing Sulu a cup.

Sulu smiled. “I love ice cream,” he said, eagerly scooping a bit of chocolate into his mouth.

Pavel frowned. “Vhat?” he asked. He glanced down at his own portion with confusion. “Zhis is _morozhenoe_.”

“Yeah,” Sulu said. “Icecream.” He scraped together another spoonful of chocolate, this time mixed with bits of strawberry, enjoying the sweet cascade of flavors that spread out across his tongue.

Pavel blinked as he too began to eat his ice cream, looking slightly disappointed that he had not been the first to introduce Sulu to this delicacy. “You have zhis in America?”

Sulu nodded. “What do you call it here?” he asked, in an attempt to bring the light back into Pavel’s eyes. “Moroznenin? Merzenone?”

Pavel snorted. “ _Morozhenoe_ ,” he repeated patiently, taking a final bite of the ice cream and smiling.

Sulu couldn’t help but glance at Pavel’s lips, pink and cold beneath the aftertaste of the _Morozhenoe_ , yet standing out almost as brightly as his freckles did in the cool afternoon sunshine. But, after a moment, Sulu gave his head a shake. He had to breathe or talk about something, _anything_ to distract him from the image of the ice skater’s lips pressed so delicately against his, otherwise he might actually lose his mind.

“It gets pretty hot in California,” Sulu said, biting the inside of his cheek to ease the trembles from his voice. “We ate this stuff all the time as kids.”

“Really?” Pavel asked, looking excited. “I...” he broke off suddenly, and, to Sulu’s surprise, his eyes darkened. “I only tasted _Morozhenoe_ a few years ago,” he explained. “My family couldn’t ever afford it vhen I vas younger.”

Sulu’s stomach gave a nervous twist, suddenly feeling guilty for so openly talking- _bragging_ , even- about the wealth of his own family. They’d never had any problems with money, and Sulu couldn’t imagine a childhood without the simple delight of ice cream. But, evidently, Pavel could.

“I’m sorry,” Sulu said, in an attempt to smooth over the darkness in Pavel’s eyes.

“Don’t be sorry. After all, I am having much more fun here vith you.” The Russian said these words as if they were as common an occurrence as a simple “good morning”, but even so, Sulu felt his heartbeat flutter.  And then, all at once, Pavel’s eyes brightened.

“I have never been to California,” he said, pronouncing the state as if it were some kind of far off realm rather than just a state. “But I have seen pictures. Is zhe, er...Golden Gate Bridge really zhat color? Are you really zhat close to the ocean?”

Sulu smiled. Pavel was practically quivering with excitement, his blue eyes bright with a longing that Sulu himself hadn’t felt until...well, until a few days ago. “Yes,” Sulu said, chuckling slightly. They were walking now, moving forward along the side of the street and weaving through the carts and stands that surrounded them. “But you should see it when the sun sets.” He paused, closing his eyes for just a moment. He could see it, the way the edges of the bridge lit up like flames against the soft, purple background of the ocean. And now, quite suddenly, Sulu ached for it.

He opened his eyes once more. Pavel was watching him, tilting his head to the side and brushing back a few stray curls. Sulu’s heart quickened. He, too, couldn’t help but stare at the way Pavel’s freckles lit up against the light of the sky beyond, the way his eyes grew softer alongside them.

“I bet it glows,” the Russian said earnestly.

 _Just like you do_ , Sulu thought instantly. And it was true. The simple company of Pavel Chekov was...comforting. And, although it had only been a few days since the two had met, Sulu felt suddenly as if this comfort were essential. It had been there since the beginning of the day, like a soft, woolen blanket draped across their bodies, in a way that was so subtle that Sulu’s fingers shook just thinking about it. In a way that made him feel less homesick.

Sulu shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. “You’d like San Francisco,” he said, ignoring the blush of heat that had creeped onto his cheeks. “It’s warmer there.”

Pavel smiled. “It is not so bad here.”

As if in response, a sudden wind churned through the streets of the _Rynok Solnsta,_ whipping their hair and flowing through Sulu’s meager jacket.

He shivered, sidestepping closer to Pavel’s warmth.

The ice skater laughed. “Well, maybe it can be sometimes,” he said, looking at Sulu with amusement.

Sulu gritted his teeth, feeling stupid for dressing like this, despite his knowledge of how cold Russia could get. He’d been here for long enough- was it just Pavel, making him nervous? “I, uh...” he trailed off, frowning. His fingers were aching, his pockets doing little to maintain their warmth. “I should have brought a hat.”

Pavel grinned. Without a word, he took off his own hat and stood on the tips of his toes to place it gingerly on Sulu’s head.

Sulu glanced up. The dark red fabric was warm and soft against his forehead, and the white pom pom that sat atop it shifted at the same moments that he did. “Pavel, I-”

“It’ll keep you warm,” Pavel said with a grin. “Besides, you do not look nearly as dorky as you zhink you do.”

Sulu blushed. It was as if the kid could read his mind or something, the way he said the words at the same instant that Sulu thought them. He reached up in an attempt to straighten the hat. _It is warm_ , he thought. And the simple fact that he now held something of Pavel’s so close to himself, the scent of the ice skater now enveloping him, almost made him shiver for a different reason.

“I don’t look stupid though, right?” Sulu asked, just for clarification.

Pavel giggled, reaching up and flicking the pom pom so that it was straight as well. He shook his head slightly. “ _Ti takaya krasivaya_ ,” he murmured.

Sulu frowned. “...What?” he asked.

Immediately, Pavel’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment. “I- it is nozhing,” he insisted, his eyes wide and bright with sudden concern. “I-”

Before he could finish, a cart rolled its way past them, nearly running over Pavel’s foot in the process. He jumped, bumping his shoulder into Sulu’s and blushing even more in response.

Sulu blinked. The Russian that Pavel had just spoken was shocking, almost; the way the words, this time, were directed at him instead of the objects around them made it better, somehow. More intriguing. For a few seconds he tried desperately to remember how they sounded, to stamp them into his mind so that he could look up the meaning later- but, delicately, they slipped away from him.

Sulu hadn’t taken his eyes off of Pavel Chekov. God, he wanted to kiss him. He squeezed his hands together in response, forcing himself to relax and to not do whatever stupid, irrational thing that he now ached for. He barely even knew this kid.

“So, er- you can still do ski jumping in San Francisco, da?” Pavel asked, obviously hoping for a change in topic.

Sulu bit his lip, humoring Pavel despite the American’s own urge to know what the Russian words meant. “Yeah,” he said, moving alongside him as they continued walking. “There are mountains there where I can go to train. I don’t train all the time, though.”

Pavel frowned. “I do,” he said stiffly.

“Why?”

“Because zhe coaches alvays vant me to be better,” Pavel explained. “Because, zhey say I vill never vin gold if I do not work for it.”

Sulu frowned once more. “Well...do you want to win gold?” Though most other atheletes would consider this a stupid question, because, what Olympic athlete wouldn’t want gold, Sulu felt that Pavel would understood what he meant.

The Russian paused, considering. “I guess,” he said. “I mean, zhat would be amazing. But...I like skating. I just vant to skate.”

Sulu smiled. Then, as they turned a corner of the _Rynok Solnsta_ , he stopped walking, spinning his body around to face Pavel. “Teach me,” he said.

Pavel frowned. “Vhat?”

“Teach me how to ice skate.”

Pavel giggled. “Hikaru, I-”

“I’m serious!” Sulu said. It was getting colder by the second, he knew, but somehow the idea of being inside the ice skating rink, with Pavel’s warm disposition only footsteps away, was inviting. “It would be fun,” Sulu insisted.

Pavel raised an eyebrow. “Vhat if you fall and get hurt?” he asked.

“I won’t get hurt if you’re there.”

That seemed to win him over. It was a compliment in itself, suggesting that Pavel was so experienced that even a rookie like Sulu was in safe hands. Which, of course, he was.

“Alright,” Pavel said slowly. “But I vant to see you do ski jumping.”

Sulu paused. “Alright,” he agreed.

Pavel beamed. The blue in his eyes was as deep and luciferous as any ocean Sulu had ever seen, his freckles seeming to glow beyond the tapestry of light that surrounded them. And, at that moment, Sulu didn’t think that _Rynok Solnsta_ could be any more beautiful. 


End file.
